


Under the Depths

by The_Archives_of_Silver



Category: Amulet (Graphic Novels)
Genre: Gen, Origins of the Grouls, Prejudice, Racism, Social Injustice, Violent Transformation, abuse of the justice system, based on a theory I had, blood trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Archives_of_Silver/pseuds/The_Archives_of_Silver
Summary: The Cielis Catacombs were reserved only for the worst of criminals, rumored to be plagued by demons of the underground hellscape. Only traitors to the good city would be faced with its abysmal caverns. Of course these are different times. A very bad time to be an elf.





	Under the Depths

The Guardian Council Chamber was deathly silent, save for the nervous breaths of the elf before the council. The leader of the Guardian Council, Chief Buer scowled down at the thin elven man in chains, looking smaller than a mouse faced with a group of cats.

“Alastor Credence, you stand here accused of treason and espionage for our enemy, the King of Gulfen,” he boomed. “How do you plead?”

Alastor took sharp breaths through his serpentine nostrils, nervous eyes darting through his mousy, short bangs at the men and women who he previously saw as great and noble leaders.

“Not guilty, master,” he said, voice trembling. “I am a mere accountant, nothing more. These allegations are false! I have done nothing wrong!”

“Silence,” Chief Buer warned. “We have evidence of you contacting people outside of Cielis. One of them being member of the royal elven guard, an elf named Marcoff Tordson.”

“He is my sister’s husband and my friend!” Alastor cried. “I was catching up with my family! I swear!”

“Is that so? Councilwoman Alisa Ceno, read the transcripts.”

The councilwoman removed a page from her file and held it out.

“Last Tuesday,at 3:00 pm, Alastor Credence told Marcoff Tordson in a radio call, ‘things aren’t going to well here. I have a sneaking suspicion that the Council is turning on the elven citizens and their allies,’” she recited. “‘Keep me in prayers, brother elf. I fear we will have to do something to stop this.’ Care to explain, Mr. Credence?”

Alastor’s fear turned to aghast anger and he pulled on his chains, attempting to get closer to the men and women on their high pedestals. 

“That was an invasion on my right to privacy and taking my words out of context!” he shouted. “I speak the truth! My neighbors and friends are being taken in and tried for crimes they never committed! Your actions have lead to the wrongful imprisonments and deaths to those who land in the worst parts of prison! We have served you for years and have been nothing but loyal! We trusted you and as soon as conflict started, you turned on us like a pack of wild dogs! We put our trust in you and you do this to us! Why?!”

“The situations you listed were actions taken to prevent casualties on both sides,” Chief Buer said coldly. “We are not responsible for anything that happens afterwards. Regardless, we have proof that your loyalties are split. Until further notice, you will be held in Yaboro prison for conspiracy to commit a crime and will be tried later for treason.”

“No!” Alastor shouted, fighting against the guards that grabbed his arms and started to pull him away. “I’ve done nothing wrong! I’ve been nothing but loyal! You’re betraying the people!”

“Get him out of here,” Chief Buer spat, glaring down at the frail elven man.

Alastor thrashed against the guards. For the first time in his timid life, he was gonna fight back. Too many people had suffered and if he was gonna be one of them, he was going to say his piece. With a sharp twist of his arm, he broke away and stormed towards the semicircle of higher ups. All the years he spent helping these people grow the city’s wealth and they throw him away like nothing? All the years he spent thinking these people were his saving grace from a cruel monarchy and they are no better than  him?!

_ How dare they turn on us like this?! _

“I should have known I’d be next,” he hissed, struggling as the guards grabbed onto him and tried to yank him back. “You locked up people with lesser involvement. And for what?! Because of a conflict with people who just happened to be elves?! Is that the message you want to send?! You’ll regret this! You are turning on good men and women who’ve served you for years! You are going down a road of destruction and all of Cielis will suffer because of your actions! Wake up and stop before more people get hurt!”

Chief Buer was oddly quiet, just letting the elf accountant let loose all his anger. When he finally stopped ranting, a sneer crossed the old man’s face. “It seems that you are a dangerous person prone to violent outbursts, have made threats of terrorism, and with questionable loyalty. There is no reason to move the trial to a later date. Let’s take a vote, council members. All in favor of sending Alastor Credence to the Catacombs for treason, raise your hand.”

A cold rock of dread and fear fell in Alastor’s stomach and he suddenly felt terribly sick.

_ Oh great Erlking, not the Catacombs. _

His eyes darted to the other four members, silently pleading for mercy, an interception, anything that would spare him from this unholy fate. One by one, all five of the members raised their hands. 

“No!” Alastor pleaded, dropping to his knees. “Please! Anything but that! Please not the Catacombs!”

The doors to the chamber opened as a tall, brawny guardsman walked in. In his hands was a collar attached to a thick chain leash, grisly and rusted. Grabbing Alastor by his thin shoulders, the guards that stood by him held his shaking form still. They locked the collar around his neck, the thin man crumpling slightly under the weight.

“Please!” He wailed, thick tears rolling down his skinny face. “Please don’t do this! Please!”

Chief Buer stood and his amulet glowed, casting blue-green light and creating shadows on his aging face. It made him look so much older, an ancient being standing judgment that wasn’t his to cast. 

Silent as a stone idol, Chief Buer sent down a bolt of light, striking Alastor so hard, he fell back.

The poor elf shrieked in agony, his body twitching as tendrils of glowing light wrapped around him. Another scream ripped from Alastor’s throat as his body suddenly spasmed. 

His back twisted and arched, making him double over. His vertebrae jut up and turned the stretched skin white as it threatened to break through. Then it did. Blood spattered onto the armor of the guards as they watched the process, cringing at the sight of something practically human being contorted, corrupted into something horribly not .

Alastor screeched at the spasming malady along his back, falling onto the ground, writhing and twisting. Froth gathered at his mouth, teeth elongating and jutting our every which way. His short cut, mousy hair fell out in clumps as he grabbed at his head, screaming inhumanly. 

Alastor’s back jerked suddenly and there was another rip of skin splitting. His spine had grown too long for his body and kept growing, ripping through the back of his pants. The base of his spine, what should have been attached to his tailbone had grown out into a tail-like extremity, bone making a speared tip. His arms and legs spasmed, contorting in a way that just looked so  wrong . Like it wasn’t quite the way they should be. His naturally long and sharp nails that were so well kept had become more like the gnarled claws on a bird of prey.

Finally the transformation was complete. What was left of Alastor stood on simian legs, looking around. The last bit of his sentience had faded out, signified by the blank, empty eyes that were once so full of timid, gentle life. The creature looked about as it got its bearings, frothy spit dripping from its jutting, crocodile teeth. Turning its bleak eyes on the guards beside it, it snarled, saliva dripping down its maw. It tried to launch at the guard, claws out. It was yanked back by the burly man who brought the collar in, held back from moving at blade-point. 

“Take him to the Catacombs,” Chief Buer said, waving a hand dismissively. 

The guards bowed as they removed Alastor-beast from the presence of the Guardian Council. They took it down into the deep corridors of the Academy, down to the entrance of the Catacombs. The door opened with a low creak, and they carefully unhooked the leash, the three points of their swords keeping the creature still. Casting a predatory look back, the last shred of Alastor Credence bolted into the deep caverns of the Catacombs on all fours, it screeches echoing through the cavernous abyss. What seemed to be the last of the echo became louder and louder, more numerous and far closer it. The doors of the upstairs world shut, echoing louder over innumerable screams of others Like Alastor, solid and final.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trellis watched as the soldiers of Cielis removed what was left of the Grouls, statues and otherwise. What had been a mission to remove treasure to help with the restorations to Cielis had become a relocation effort of the Grouls to prevent any attacks on the dutiful workers. Emily adamantly refused to see the creatures following the capture of one.

_”There’s some terribly wrong about them,” she had shuddered, casting a glance at the live one they had caught. “Something.... just really corrupt about the whole affair. I can’t put words to it... and I’m afraid to.”_

So to ease her growing burdens, Vigo and Trellis offered to handle the task while she met with other officials. They were just supposed to be there as an added security measure. Trellis found himself staring at one of the Grouls in particular, a small, thin one, cowering in the cage. It stared steadily back at him, trying to cover its face. As if it were ashamed to be seen. Odd considering it attacked anything human but being in the presence of an elf was pure humiliation.

Trellis now felt exactly what was concerning Emily.

There was something wrong and deeply, unnervingly familiar about the creature. Like meeting someone you’ve never met but uncertainty nagging at your soul, that you have seen at least someone like them. No matter how much he tried to push away the feeling, it always came back.

“I pity these poor creatures,” Vigo said, startling Trellis from his thoughts. “Living in the dark for so long, used as targets for training, purposed as mere Guard dogs. Emily was right; there is something off. Something terribly off.”

Trellis silently nodded in agreement, staring at the timid creature. “We’ll figure it out. I just hope this bad feeling is simply that.”


End file.
